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“Are you okay?” he asked, moving toward her.
She stepped away from him. “I just found out you take erotic pictures of naked women. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“You tell me.”
“You’re a smart man, David,” she said with an eye roll. “Hurry up and figure it out.”
“You’re jealous,” he surmised.
“Well, at the very least, let’s just say I’m not thrilled. How’s that?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, maybe because when you see a lot of boobs, chances are that some will look better than mine, and I don’t like that. Picturing you getting up close and personal with Ashley’s was bad enough, but now I have to picture you here, at work—”
“I don’t get up close and personal with anyone’s boobs at work.”
She made a face at him for interrupting her. “What I was going to say was that I have to picture you here, at work, seeing boobs on the regular.”
David moved toward her again. “It’s not ‘on the regular’. It’s more like … three times a month.”
“That’s pretty regular.” She side-stepped him. “I mean, what if I was seeing random men’s dicks three times a month? Would that be a problem for you?”
“If it was a part of your job … and you weren’t getting turned on by seeing random men’s dicks? I could deal with it. And I would just make a point of showing you mine more often.”
She was pretty sure he was full of crap and just egging her on—at least about the part where he could deal with it. “But what if some of them looked better than yours?”
“Impossible.”
Paige released an aggravated breath. “Oh, my God, you’re so—”
His arms around her abruptly cut her off. “Just like it’s impossible that anyone’s boobs look better than yours.”
“Actually, that’s not impossible.”
“Yes, it is, because your boobs are my favorite of all time.”
“Of all time? Does that include the girl you danced with in the ninth grade?”
“It was the eighth grade, and yes, it includes her, whatever her name was.”
“Fine,” she said with bland exaggeration. “I believe you.”
He turned her around and took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Believe this: I’m not attracted to any of the women I photograph. At all. I can look at them and figure out how to take the best pictures of them, but I don’t want them as anything but clients. You, on the other hand? I want in every conceivable way,” he told her, before kissing her hard. When he pulled back, he added, “I only want you. Every minute of every day. And I know we have dinner reservations in a half hour, but you look hot as fuck in that dress and those heels—” he broke off to look her up and down, before continuing with, “—and I’d really like to drag you upstairs right now and show you how much I want you, instead.”
Paige thought about the hour she’d spent doing her hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for her first Valentine’s Day date in over five years. “Let’s do it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Without further ado he quickly led her upstairs and into his bedroom. Clothing came off and was tossed aside, and then he was seated with his back against the headboard, giving her the universal Come here gesture with both hands. “Hop on,” he told her, heavy on the smolder.
After taking a few seconds to admire every inch of his body, Paige did as instructed, straddling him with what she hoped was a graceful sensuality. He watched her settle on his groin, thighs gripping his hips, then rub up and down the length of his hard cock in a leisurely rhythm.
His expression took on a needy, heated flush, as his hands slid up and grasped her breasts. He kneaded gently for several moments before leaning forward and burying his face in between them and sighing with pleasure.
“I don’t know why you’re worried about other women’s tits when these are fantastic. Actually, that’s not a strong enough word.” The words came out rather muffled, as his mouth was latched onto one of her nipples, making her groan at the dual assault of his velvet lips and tongue. “They’re incomparable.”
